


God comes Knocking

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drug-Induced Sex, Forced, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, sedatives, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:19:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7301056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brock Rumlow  takes advantage of his control over the winter soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God comes Knocking

**Author's Note:**

> rape tw

Bucky laid stock-still, his back to the door of his holding cell. He listened to it opening, and the familiar footfalls that followed. Spaced out, confident, the almost undetectable crunch of combat boots against concrete coming towards him. A cold sheen of sweat spread over his face.

"Barnes," Brock Rumlow's voice was a husky, sarcastic sigh, "I really do hate it when you misbehave."

Bucky let out as much of a whine as he could in the back of his throat, begging his legs to move. He could barely lift his tongue in his mouth. The haze of rohypnol creeped over him, step by step, seeming to untie him bit by bit, unravel every muscle in his body and rendering him paralysed and trapped in a flaccid shell. He was a spectator to his own torture.

"Don't look at me like that now, dollface," Rumlow cooed, sitting on the edge of Bucky's bed behind him, "I wouldn't have drugged you if you had just opened your damn mouth now, would I?"

Bucky coughed a weak sob. It left his chest as a numb wheeze against his pillow. Rumlow shushed him, a low, dry sound against Bucky's shoulder. He ran a hand up Bucky's spine slowly. Bucky tried to flinch away from the cold against his bare skin but again, there was no response from his body. Rumlow rolled him over, pulling him by the shoulder and letting him flop onto his back with a thud against the firm mattress.

"You're about to learn something," Rumlow paused, sucking two of his fingers before running the wet digits down Bucky's stomach.

"You're about to learn that I am  _ God _ to you, Barnes. And when God comes knocking at your door, you sure as hell give him what he asks for."

Bucky shook his head as best as he could, his meagre protest leaving his mouth as a slurring mumble. Rumlow mimicked him, shaking his head right back and sticking his bottom lip out mockingly before grabbing a fist of Bucky's hair.

“Cause’ God calls the shots. You don’t argue, you don’t fuss, you don’t bitch,”  Rumlow continued, running his hands back through Bucky’s hair and stroking his lips with his thumb.

He yanked his head back stiffly and held it so, exposing his neck. Bucky clamped his eyes shut as Rumlow sucked an open-mouthed, messy kiss into his neck. The hand in his hair tightened and the other pushed into Bucky's shorts. A heavy pang of nausea and fear coursed through the sergeant.

"And I thought you were a good little Catholic," Rumlow growled,

"God's honest man. Oh, but that was your precious little Stevie, wasn't it. He was the more pious one, right? Not you. You were the bad boy, the naughty one. Cat got your tongue now though, huh Bucky?"

Bucky willed the metal arm to move, the urge to see Rumlow's brains spread out on the concrete intensifying at the mention of Steve. The guilt intensified too, biology betraying him as he hardened involuntarily in Rumlow's searching hand.

"Hah," Rumlow coughed a laugh, "I knew you wanted it. You just needed a little bit of tempting."

Bucky shook his head more violently, the severed ties between his brain and his body strengthening a little. Rumlow continued his torturous route of kisses (more 'licks' than kisses), stopping at Bucky's hips where he bit down hard. Bucky's eyes watered, running backwards down his cheeks and pooling in his ears. The bite had drawn blood. Rumlow stood up and spat out the blood. It hit Bucky's cheek like a slap and any energy he had left went into a ripple of rage that stopped at his limbs and sat in hot coils, unable to act. A scream he could not breath and curses his mouth could not form coiled there too as he laid, pinned by a drugged stupour.

He wished the drugs had clouded his senses too, but there was no such respite. His body was disabled but his thoughts and feelings were vivid and clear. Rumlow pulled Bucky by that ever-tightening handful of hair onto the concrete floor of the bleak cell with a painful clatter of limbs. Bucky tried to catch himself but instead resolved to bracing as he slumped headlong into the concrete, unable to hold his neck or spine in any sort of shape. His arms fell loosely at his sides. The rag-doll effect.

"You're a messy drunk? That's okay; I only need that pretty little mouth of yours and we should have no problems keeping it-" Rumlow grunted as he hefted Bucky straight, holding him under his arms like a baby, "-nice and stretched open."

Bucky sobbed silently, the gasps shaking him so that he slumped again, his chin now heavy against his chest, letting his tears drop onto his knees. He listened to the sound of Rumlow's belt unlatching. He clenched his jaw shut as hard as he could manage, but realised the extent of his own impairment when Rumlow prized it open effortlessly with his thumb.

"Big 'ahh'," Rumlow ordered, opening his mouth wide like a dentist coaxing an unruly child and revealing four gold teeth at the back of his mouth.

_ I promise you that I will personally tear those out one day _ , Bucky thought to himself, his eyes filling with more tears as he opened his mouth as symmetrically as he could. His vision warped and blurred in front of him as Rumlow straightened him roughly, cupping his face in both hands before pushing himself into Bucky's mouth. His throat closed at the lack of warning.

"Loosen up," Rumlow pushed his hips forward sharply, chuckling at the gag it earned, "Hold it  _ together _ ."

Bucky employed his one coping mechanism; closing his eyes and pretending it was not happening. The pain was easier to ignore than the humiliation; pain was part of his everyday routine. The humiliation was also, to some extent, but not at this level. The only movements he could make were the ones Rumlow chose for him, he was his puppet, an object for him to use as he wanted.

"See. You aren't completely useless," Rumlow grunted, moving his hips faster before shuddering to a climax that made Bucky's stomach heave.

Rumlow stepped back, letting Bucky fall against the cold floor again. Bucky choked a few times before shivers came over him like a plague. Rumlow zipped up his combats and squatted next to Bucky on the floor.

"I bet Steve loved it when you did that to him, hey?" Rumlow whispered, low and grimy. Still, despite the quietness the words seemed to echo off of the walls of the bunker.

"Shut..." Bucky battled with the weakness. His tongue felt like it weighed a metric tonne, "Not Steve. Don't talk...about him."

The words came out cottony and thick, unlike his voice. Rumlow grinned sickeningly, rolling Bucky onto his back with his foot and staring down at him.

"Don't worry," he whispered, "I'll make sure that by the end of the night, you won't remember who he is."


End file.
